


It Was Written

by undermyumbreon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (more to be added as the story progresses) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Falling In Love, Fighting, First Kiss, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Burn, Soulmates, competative figure skating, figure skating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-07 07:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14665812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undermyumbreon/pseuds/undermyumbreon
Summary: Within the first twenty years of life, every person on Earth receives a strip of paper that tells a vague premonition of their “fate”. As Yuuri and Victor struggle to make sense of the nature of fates, they find the answers that they desire in unexpected places: within each another.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri learns what it means to be burdened with fate.

     Yuuri Katsuki, if asked, could effortlessly recall the day that he had received his fate. It had been a few days after he had first seen the young figure skating legend, Victor Nikiforov, perform in competition. Twelve year old Yuuri had been easily amazed by Victor’s flawless routine. He had never witnessed such graceful movements executed so perfectly on the ice in his entire life.  
     Breath-taken, Yuuri could not find anything else to think about that night as he told his family of the spectacle he had watched on television. That is, until he had woken up from sleep to the booming sound of thunder and torrential rain in the early morning hours. Trees had creaked as the wind gusted strongly against the walls of the family’s inn. Yuuri had realized that he was in for a restless night after he heard a branch collapse with a particularly loud thud.  
     When daylight broke, the Katsuki family had found themselves outside in the storm’s aftermath. Expressions of horror were spread across their faces from the sight laid out before them. All of the images of Victor’s performance in Yuuri’s head were replaced by the debris scattered across the inn’s walkways, lawn, and roof top. His parents were relatively speechless, only letting out gasps or sighs as they uncovered broken fountain statues and twig-filled hot springs.  
     The power had been cut sometime during the night, having not returned since. Tenants were eager to vacate the inn. Some had wanted to ensure that their homes had endured the storm while others feared of what dangers the inn now held after the storm’s forces. Hardly a soul remained in any of the rooms by evening.  
     That night, Yuuri had worried about what would become of the inn. He was old enough to understand that their family business was subject to fall on hard times. There was little money to spare, especially enough to cover the expenses for the damage.  
     Overwhelmed with anxiety, Yuuri had forced himself to focus on other matters. It was then that Victor’s black figuring skating outfit had popped into his head. The exquisite routine had played over and over in his mind as if on an endless loop. The tingling ecstasy that he had felt while watching Victor skate returned, lulling Yuuri into an easy sleep.  
     During his slumber, an odd sensation had traveled throughout Yuuri’s body. In current time, he could only describe the experience as a blurry trip through nothingness. There had been an assortment of colors that lazily shifted from one hue to the next. Strange warmth had encased him fully that no hot spring or summer day could match, even to present day.  
     Upon awaking, Yuuri had felt that the dream was something extraordinary, but found it was unnecessary to tell his parents. After all, they were preoccupied with the inn’s current condition. By midafternoon, however, Yuuri would discover that his dream was more than an odd fantasy concocted from his imagination.  
     A visitor had come to the inn and requested that they speak immediately to the heads of the household. While Yuuri’s parents greeted them, Yuuri had hid off at the mouth of a hallway, curious to learn of this visitor’s intentions. As his parents sat down with the newcomer in the common area, the visitor, Yuuri would overhear, was a Fate Bringer. This Fate Bringer was young woman and could have hardly been more than twenty years of age.  
     Once settled in, the Fate Bringer had shared the news with Yuuri’s parents that her predecessor had recently passed away. As their apprentice, she was now responsible to deliver fates to the town folk. Yuuri’s parents became excited, asking her eagerly if Yuuri’s fate had arrived and if she was here to deliver it. That was indeed her plan, she had revealed, and Yuuri was shocked at the news. However, there was a catch.  
     “Due to the storm, the house I am living in had a tree fall onto its roof. The roof has completely caved in and it no longer safe for me to stay there until it is fixed. I’m asking for money in exchange for the fate in this envelope,” the Fate Bringer had held the important red document up for Yuuri’s parents to see.  
     “You want us to pay you for our son’s fate?” Yuuri’s mother had asked. Yuuri could remember the hesitation in her voice.  
     “Yes.”  
     “This is absurd!” Yuuri’s father had declared angrily, “You aren’t supposed to put a price on our son’s future. It’s immoral. He deserves to know what’s going to happen to him. Don’t you see that we’ve been through enough already?"  
     "We’ve all been hit hard by this storm. I don’t have a job yet to pay for anything on my own. My teacher was the one paying for the expenses when I lived with them, but now I have to pay the bills on the house as well as the repair costs on the roof."  
     When met with silence, the Fate Bringer had continued.  
     “I’ll keep your son’s fate safely with me. I’ll write his name down on the envelope and when you have the money, I shall hand it over."  
     “Unbelievable,” Yuuri’s father had commented, “Taking advantage of us-“  
“Toshiya, that is not-“  
     “That’s what she’s doing, Horoko!”  
     As Yuuri watched on, the discussion had escalated into shouts. He could hear a swear word thrown into the mix of heated debate between the trio.  
     "Enough!" his mother had demanded loudly after a minute of fighting. Her voice had echoed throughout the empty room. Her frustration remains vividly imprinted into Yuuri’s memory to present day. He had never heard his mother use such an angry tone in his entire life.  
     “…Horoko-“  
     "Please, go. We’ll pay when we can."  
     When no further comments had been added, the Fate Bringer was on her feet and sliding the front door closed. A hush had fallen upon Yuuri’s parents after her departure. It had only taken an irritated grunt from Yuuri’s father to spur the couple into a brief spat. The feud ended when Yuuri’s father returned to his duties in the kitchen, leaving his mother to simmer silently. As she returned to cleaning the main hall, she had finally noticed that her son peeking out from the shadows.  
     “Oh, Yuuri! How long have you been here?” she had approached him when he walked out into the open common space, “Did you hear us yelling? Is that why you’re here?”  
     “I heard the whole thing…” Yuuri admitted, being the honest boy that he was.  
     "I’m so sorry, Yuuri...”  
     “I can’t… get my fate yet, right?” Yuuri had asked sadly, reaffirming what he had witnessed transpire before him.  
     “No, we can’t bring you your fate right now," she had consoled him. She had gently hugged him and rubbed his back in a comforting manner. It was all she could have offered him in the crushing moment.  
     “It’s okay, Mom,” Yuuri had tried to reassure her, convincing himself that not knowing his fate wasn’t the end of the world. It was a difficult opinion to stick to.  
     “Oh, Yuuri…” her voice had broken, “One day, I promise you that we’ll get you your fate.”  
     Four years later, Yuuri would open a card to find an envelope full of money. As their gift to him for his sixteenth birthday, his parents had decided to fully pay for Yuuri to buy his fate. Yuuri happily rushed out of the inn to the Fate Bringer’s house that afternoon.  
     By the time he had reached his destination, Yuuri had fully convinced himself to turn back home without his fate. The thought of knowing his fate scared him immensely. The long walk had given him time to remember that the world around him was an unforgiving place. There was no way to guarantee that the future that lied in store for him was a bright one. ****At an age full of anxiety, Yuuri found it more comforting to remain naïve.  
     When he had returned to the inn, Yuuri had woven a quick lie about wanting to keep his fate to himself. His family had respected his decision, not questioning the result of his trip to the Fate Bringer. The money from the card was place in a box and stashed in his desk drawer, never to see the light of day again.  
     As the years continued to pass by, Yuuri would find himself wondering how much different his life would have been if he knew his fate. He would daydream of the possibilities often. Being the pessimist that he was, Yuuri believed his life could be worse if he did know. He would have questioned every move he made. Then, he would have surely stopped taking risks, a challenge he already struggled with, or made excuses to opt out of opportunities. It was better for him to stay in the dark.  
     While in college, Yuuri had received grave news from his family. Vicchan, his dog, had to be put down after a brief fight with cancer. Conflicts with figure skating practice and university exams kept Yuuri from flying back to Japan to see his family during their time of grieving. His choices had haunted him immensely as he found himself stricken with guilt.  
     The loss had wrecked Yuuri immensely. It had changed every aspect of his life. His academics had suffered as Yuuri’s mind drifted off during class. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he wasn’t there for his own dog’s passing. Studying was non-existent. He had several nights with tears staining his face as he fell asleep. It had even become a common occurrence for his dorm mate, Phichit, to console him during training sessions while their coach, Celestino, yelled at them to return to their routines.  
     Yuuri worried every day that Vicchan’s death was his fate. He would become restless at the idea that he could have prepared for his dog’s abrupt passing if he had retrieved his fate back when he was a teenager. He cursed the idea that suffering could be a part of his fate.  
     A few months after Vicchan’s passing, Yuuri began to improve. He was coming to terms with the loss of his beloved pet. He would take the time to forgive himself for missing his dog’s passing. His grades improved and his focus returned. Skating became a strong outlet for his remorse. He even looked to his favorite skaters, including Victor Nikiforov, for drive when he lacked the motivation to perform.  
     During the mourning period, not once did Yuuri find himself feeling the infamous "destined path" instinct that came when one was following their fate’s course. He was grateful for that. The whole ordeal had been a depressing matter on its own. He failed to see what great gains he would receive through this tragedy if it were his fate. From the day that his family had adopted Vicchan, they all knew he would eventually leave them. Nothing that had happened indicated that a significant shift in his life had occured. Vicchan’s death wasn’t his fate.  
     _So..._ Yuuri dreaded.  
_What was?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor learns what it means to be burdened with fate.

     When Victor had received his fate, he had burst out laughing. At seventeen years old, after the national skating competition in Russia, Victor had flopped down onto his hotel bed when Yakov drew his attention.  
     "I received this from the local Fate Bringer,” Yakov gave Victor a knowing look as he extended his arm, red envelope in hand, “She said that she had received a vision of your fate last night."  
     In the past, Victor had been approached several times by people, usually fans, who claimed to know of his "fate" to come. The fates straddled between romance or success in his career. Some of these predictions had even told ambitious fantasies of Victor becoming the most notable figure skater in all of the competitive field’s history.  
     They were all false, however. The people were scammers looking for a slice of Victor’s fame, or rabid fans desperately wanting their crush to become their husband. With the influx of envelopes over the years, Victor had taken it upon himself to read about the ways in which a person would really know that they had received their actual fate.  
     It was on this evening in the hotel that Victor knew the red envelope in his coach’s hand was the legitimate fortune for him. On the eve of fate, Victor had fallen into a deep slumber. He had felt everything and nothing all at once. Flashes of color coated his vision. As he awoke the next morning, he knew. He _knew_ he was finally on the course that fate would take him. It had been detailed time and time again in first-hand fate experience books.  
     "What are you waiting for?" Yakov interrupted Victor’s cloudy thoughts.  
     "Nothing. I’m just-"  
     "Tired of getting false reads?"  
     Victor faltered. He didn’t know if he should tell Yakov of his dream. If the fate was bad, wouldn’t it hurt Yakov more to know that it was truly bound to happen? In every forged fate Victor had received, it was always positive in some regard. If it turned out to be bad on the actual fate, and Victor lied about its validity, Yakov might catch on that something was off. Perhaps Victor could play a bad fate off as an angry spectator if the case were to happen.  
     "Yeah..." was all Victor could respond with, still struggling with the internal conflict. He finally took the letter, flipping it over to the sealed side. With a slightly shaky hand, Victor tore the envelope open and gingerly pulled the paper from within. He tenderly unfolded the contents.  
     " _You will disappoint your caretaker, but you will be happy,_ " it read in bold, black calligraphy on the white paper.  
     So vague. So odd. So _nonspecific_. Victor laughed out loud at the letter, but stopped himself short, afraid his nerves were slipping into his voice.  
    There had been many times where Victor had disappointed Yakov. He had disobeyed his coach’s requests, ignored his warnings on his public image, and spoke up against Yakov in protest over expressing his individuality in his programs.  
     "Oh, a funny one? What does it say?" Yakov pried.  
     Quick thinking took over Victor’s speech.  
     "It says I’m going to marry the Fate Bringer’s daughter."  
     "Of course, of course-" Yakov groveled. "It’s always the Fate Bringer who ‘somehow’ gets involved with you."  
     "Yeah. Ironic…"  
     "Why don’t you throw that out now-"  
     "No, I-" Victor interjected, unconsciously clutching the paper to his chest, "I want to keep this one. Just for a little while."  
     "I don’t get why you keep those offensive things."  
     “I want to show it to the others,” Victor lied. He had no inkling of desire to share what he had actually learned.  
     “They’ve seen this type of letter before, Vitya.”  
     Victor failed to reply, lost once again in thought. He was confused. He always fought with Yakov, but the older man had never been disappointed per say. Perhaps angry, perhaps annoyed, but it had always ended as short-lived grudges. Yakov had never spoken of feeling disappointed by Victor’s decisions.  
     "You are strange," Yakov remarked absentmindedly, retreating to the restroom.  
     "Not as strange as this 'Fate Bringer'," Victor zipped back. Yakov let out a hearty laugh.  
     "Never like those scammers."  
     Victor fell silent again. Yakov stopped at the entrance of the bathroom, turning his head back towards Victor.  
     "I know you want this badly..." Yakov said gently. Victor looked up into his face. Yakov’s expression was soft and concerned on his aged skin, "It’s not odd to have fates come later. You’re seventeen; you’ve got plenty of time."  
     "I know, I just..." Victor sighed, pretending to be annoyed.  
     "One day. It’ll be here one day. I know it’s hard seeing the others get theirs first, but you will too."  
     With Yakov shut away in the bathroom, Victor was left to stare at the fate before him. He had just _lied_ to the person most important to him about _the_ most important thing that could ever happen to him. He could literally stop any potential long-lasting damage if he spoke up now and told the truth. Victor had someone in his corner for stressful times like this, but that someone was the very person mentioned in the letter.  
     Even when Yakov came out of the bathroom, Victor couldn’t muster up the courage to discuss the truth about his fate. Watching Yakov prepare for bed naïve to the gravity of the letter in Victor’s hands left a sickly feeling inside of him. In the end, he chose to remain silent as the two went to bed, leaving Victor awake with the weight of his decision.  
     The years wore on Victor as he was left dumbfounded by his fate. The secret of his true fortune had been sealed away ever since the night at the hotel. From then onward, every argument with Yakov left Victor questioning if his coach was disappointed, or just frustrated. He would wait to see what would come of these arguments, but nothing unusual would be birthed from them.  
     Victor had taken it upon himself to read books on others’ fates. He had tried to find people with fates similar to his, but the tales were not relatable. There was no use going to locate the Fate Bringer who had written the letter for him. Fate Bringers were only messengers of the fate. They knew only as much as the words that came to them spontaneously.  
     At nineteen years old, after receiving a vague “fate” from a fan who claimed relation to a local Fate Bringer, Victor used it as inspiration to fib to Yakov. He claimed that he had finally experienced the fate dream. Victor was “destined” to be the ‘face of his talents for thousands to witness’ according to the paper.  
     That night, Yakov and the others celebrated for the end to Victor’s long wait. He was a late bloomer, but they rejoiced now that Victor could finally be at ease knowing his future looked bright. At least, so they were tricked into believing. Victor would have to disagree.  
     At ten, Mila had received her fate, but chose to keep it a secret from the rest of the group. Victor thought that she was also hiding a secret, just like him. He grew giddy at the idea of sharing and connecting with Mila over an experience like his. His theory was immediately debunked the moment she handed the letter to Yakov, which prompted a smile onto the older man’s face. Mila had been graced with good news.  
     At fourteen, Georgi had received a fate about learning to listen. Victor would see what that meant when Georgi’s girlfriend, Anya, broke up with him after a three year long relationship. Georgi was slow on the up-take, however. No one gave him any hints.  
     At three, the youngest of their group, Yuri had received a fate about success the night before he began to learn how to skate. Once again, the fate proved to be on track as the young boy soared past his peers in competition.  
     Nevertheless, through all of the supportive and encouraging words, Victor remained up at night after the party. He couldn’t help but cry in anguish. Two years had gone by since the official fate had been handed to him and he still couldn’t decode it. He was little aware of how long the journey for answers would be.  
     Ten years after he had received the fate, Victor was becoming exhausted with his career, the fans, and his current lifestyle. He began to wonder if his eventual retirement would bring Yakov disappointment. Yakov was a reasonable man, though. Yakov’s oldest pupil had been twenty eight years old when they retired. He knew Victor was at the end of his successful run as a competitive figure skater.  
     Would a fate predict something inevitable like that then? Since the beginning, Yakov knew Victor would retire one way or another. He couldn’t be satisfied with that answer. What purpose would it be for the fate to warn Victor about leaving his career? He knew his fans would be sad and Yakov would be pleased with his track record. So what on earth could possibly disappoint Yakov at this point if it was not his involvement with skating?  
     The situation got to him time and time again. And then, Victor saw _him_ at the Grand Prix Final banquet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri returns to his home in Hasetsu. After much internal conflict, Yuuri makes a drastic choice.

     6th place. From everything that Yuuri had poured into this moment, he had only managed to grasp 6th place. It was his first Grand Prix Final, and he had completely obliterated his chance at winning gold, or any medal for that matter, in the Free Skate.  
     After the medal ceremony, Yuuri anxiously surfed the internet. He was greeted with a stream of tweets ranking across the board of approval. Most were filled with disappointment with words of comfort slapped to the end in the form of hashtags. The news articles weren’t any better. Several authors had isolated Yuuri from his competitive peers to emphasize his downfall.  
     He sat with the other skaters as his coach, Celestino, blabbed on to him. Yuuri, for the first time in his life, blatantly ignored his mentor. It was easier to wallow in victimhood than to face whatever faux words of inspiration Celestino could possibly be uttering to him at this moment.  
     The situation didn’t improve when Yuuri retreated to the men’s restroom to call his mother. He had been caught crying alone in a stall by a feisty, blond teenager after the call had ended. The adolescence had called Yuuri an idiot and had insisted that the older skater should retire from the sport. Helpful.  
     The trip ended with a knock-out blow to any self-esteem Yuuri had remaining. His long time idol, Victor Nikiforov, had asked him for a ‘commemorative photo.’ Victor didn’t seem to even recognize Yuuri as a fellow competitor. What a horrible joke the universe was pulling, especially in the crowded, reporter filled lobby of the skating rink.  
     This wave of misfortune continued to create mayhem as Yuuri’s subsequent loss at the Japan National Figure Skating Championships solidified his choice to return to college. It only took him a year to complete his studies. With a farewell to Phichit and Celestino, Yuuri was finally headed home to Hasetsu after graduation.  
     Five long years had dragged on to this moment. Yuuri was first greeted by his old ballet teacher, Minako Okukawa, when he arrived at the train station. She proceeded to lead him home, updating him on her ballet studio’s decreasing attendance as well as the town’s dwindling population. Things had really changed since Yuuri had initially left.  
When the pair arrived at the family inn, Yuuri called out across the entryway.  
     “I’m here!”  
     “Welcome home, Yuuri!” a voice echoed back. His mother met Yuuri lovingly, rushing up to her son with high energy. She hugged him fiercely once his shoes were off. He laughed awkwardly, wrapping his arms around his enthusiastic mother. He had wanted to see her again so badly.  
     “I’m sorry it’s been so long, mom,” Yuuri immediately followed up. His mother released him from her grasp, her hands remaining firmly on his arms.  
     “Oh, it’s no worry, Yuuri! You were working hard,” she reassured him.  
     “What’s with all of the noise?” another voice drifted from behind a partition. Within moments, the partition slide open and an older man revealed himself. Yuuri recognized that it was his father.  
     “H-hi, dad.”  
     “Yuuri, welcome back. Are you hungry? I was thinking of making you a pork cutlet bowl tonight.”  
     Yuuri’s face immediately lit up. Such simple pleasures brought him the most happiness, but he knew it would have to wait.  
     “I am, but… I want to see Vicchan first.”  
     A soft smile decorated his mother’s face.  
     “Of course, Yuuri.”  
     Alone in the side room, Yuuri sat on his knees before the photograph of him with Vicchan. He had been almost fourteen years old at the time the photo was taken. A weak smile crossed Yuuri’s face as he remembered having to beg his parents to buy him a poodle instead of paying for his fate. He didn’t know how he had convinced them to do so, but he assumed that it was the combination of the family desiring a pet and Yuuri’s hesitation to know his fate that did it. If Yuuri hadn’t developed immense anxiety from when he first had the fate dream, his parents would have definitely convinced him to see the Fate Bringer sooner.  
     “I’m so sorry, Vicchan…I wanted to see you before you left,” Yuuri whispered into the empty space. He felt his eyes grow hot, tears threatening to form, “I really did…”  
     The door behind him abruptly slid open. Yuuri’s eyes flicked opened wildly in surprise. He turned on his hunches to see who had entered the room.  
     “Yuuri, I had heard you came home. Welcome back.”  
     “Mari…” Yuuri said softly. His sister seemed tired, but a small grin warmed up her face in the dim room. Yuuri was suddenly overwhelmed with longing. He realized how much he had missed his sister. “I’m so sorry I haven’t come to visit.”  
     “How long are you going to be staying?” she asked, ignoring his apology as she pulled out a box of cigarettes from her apron. Maybe things really hadn’t changed since he had left.  
     “I’m not really sure yet,” Yuuri admitted.  
     “Are you going back to skating?”  
     “I don’t know.”  
     “Will you be working here then?” she took a lighter out of her pocket.  
     “Working here?” Yuuri parroted.  
     “In the meantime, until you figure out what you’re going to do,” Mari continued, lighting her cigarette. She put the lighter away, replacing the empty space in her hand with the cigarette.  
     “I honestly wasn’t thinking about it much…” Yuuri confessed. Mari let out a puff of smoke as she spoke.  
     “Well, you went back to college and all. I thought you’d have something in mind,” she exhaled deeply.  
     “I…I’m just…” Yuuri fumbled with his words. He looked down at the floor. He was embarrassed that he hadn’t returned home with his life planned out.  
     “Whether you go back to skating or choose to work instead, just know that I’ll support you,” Mari took a long drag of her cigarette, allowing her words to marinate in the silence that followed.  
     “I think I just need some time to figure it out…” Yuuri finally followed up, reconnecting his gaze with his sister’s.  
     “Okay,” Mari said. Yuuri assumed that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, but she smiled sincerely at him, “Go soak in the hot spring. I’m sure you need it.”  
     “I was planning on it.”  
     Yuuri happily treated himself to a warm soak. Finding himself alone in the hot spring, Yuuri thought that he would finally able to unwind. He found that his sister’s words plagued him instead as he slid deeper into the pool.  
  _“I thought you’d have something in mind.”_  
_Me too…_ Yuuri mused sadly. He watched the water ripple around his body. What was left for him to do at this point? It seemed that he had exhausted all of his skating talents. He was struggling to picture himself continuing in the competitive field. School was over too. He had no idea what he would keep studying anyway if he could go back. Where could he focus himself next-  
     Unexpectedly, the word _fate_ flashed into his mind like a burst firework. He sat up straight, a strong surge of terror coursing through him rapidly. A noise of astonishment left his lips as the water in the pool sloshed against him.  
     Yuuri hated to consider it, but his fate was his last resort. He had constantly pushed the idea of retrieving his fate into the depths of his mind ever since he had left college. He still had anxieties over his future, but he was desperate now. He had to accept that he was stuck in a corner and an opportunity like this was the only way out. His fate could tell him whether to keep pursuing figure skating, or to move on.  
     After his bath, Yuuri made haste. He scarfed down his dinner and rushed to his bedroom. He assumed that the Fate Bringer would still request money in exchange for his fate. After he had fished the money-filled envelope from the depths of his desk’s drawer, he was off.  
     The trip to the Fate Bringer’s residence brought back distant memories. It had almost been a decade since Yuuri had last traveled in this direction. He felt the familiar stroke of anticipation he had experienced when he was sixteen. This time, he knew he had to push himself to get what he needed. There was no option to back out.  
     When he reached his destination, Yuuri saw that the lights were still on in the small building. A sign with the Fate Bringer’s working hours was tacked onto the door. They were still open for another hour. Yuuri charged ahead inside. A bell rang as the front door was open. He stood in the middle of the entrance, waiting anxiously.  
     “Hello, good evening!” the energetic voice drifted in from another room.  
     “H-hello,” Yuuri replied, cautiously looking around the space. Footsteps drew his attention towards a petite woman emerging from an adjoining room. She was carrying a box, but managed to tilt her head into view and flash him a smile.  
     “What can I do for you today, sir?” she asked, bending down to place the box onto the floor, “Sorry, I was just rearranging my office.”  
     “It’s okay,” Yuuri reassured her, “I’m here to, um, pick up…” he fumbled with his words, “I’m sorry, what’s the right word for Fates?”  
     “Fate is just fine! What else would I be giving you anyway?” she teased.  
     “Right, right,” Yuuri scratched the back of his head, feeling abashed.  
     “May I have your name, sir?”  
     “Katsuki Yuuri.”  
     “I’ll go look for your fate Mr. Katsuki. It’ll take me a few minutes, okay?”  
     “Thank you,” Yuuri grinned, “I appreciate it.”  
     The Fate Bringer made her way behind a collection of boxes to where a desk hid amongst them. She moved the packages about before diving into the desk’s interior. She ventured into its drawers for an extended period of time.  
     “That’s odd,” the woman half-muttered to herself, “Let me look in here…"  
     Yuuri waited patiently as she rummaged through the office space. The woman directed her attention to a filing cabinet on the other side of the room. Drawers opened and closed with intermissions of papers riffling. Curiosity was noticeably bubbling in Yuuri’s stomach. He shifted on his toes and looked around the small room.  
     "Mr. Katsuki."  
     The woman’s voice was hard and cold. Its serious tone filled Yuuri with a sense of dread.  
     "Yes?"  
     "I- I don’t-" she choked on her words.  
     "Excuse me?"  
     "I said, I..." the Fate Bringer hesitated. It was evident that she was growing upset, "I made a mistake. I can’t find your envelope."  
     Yuuri’s thoughts echoed in his head and out of his mouth.  
     "What- what do you mean?"  
     "I- um-" the woman cleared her throat and spoke rapidly, “How old were you when you received the Fate Dream?”  
     “I was twelve.”  
     “A-and how old are you now?”  
     “I’m twenty five. What does that have to do with my Fate?”  
     The wheels seemed to turn in the Fate Bringer’s head.  
     “W-when did you receive your Fate?”  
     “I said: I did when I was twelve,” Yuuri repeated, a tad of confusion in his voice.  
     “No- I'm sorry, I meant: did you get it during the storm that happened over a decade ago?”  
     “Yes. It was the night the storm hit. What does that have to do with my fate?”  
     The Fate Bringer seemed to seize up. Her eyes grew wide and wild, sending a fearful chill down Yuuri’s spine.  
     “B-because… I threw out the few remaining fates from when the storm hit. N-no one ever came to get them, s-so I discarded them. I-I didn't think anyone would come and want them anymore after this long.”  
     _They were… thrown out?_ Yuuri thought, dumbfounded at the idea. He couldn’t imagine a _Fate Bringer_ , out of all people, tossing out a document as important as a Fate. That just couldn’t be!  
     "How long ago was that?" Yuuri asked shakily. There was some hope left, he convinced himself. Perhaps she had done it this past week. Perhaps they could look through the garbage and locate his Fate.  
     "A year ago..." came a hushed whisper.  
     Gone. Utterly _gone_.  
     Yuuri felt as if the wind was knocked from his lungs. He fidgeted in place. His eyes suddenly erupted with heat. He was threatening to cry in front of a person he had seen only once before in his life.  
     "Can’t you- um-" Yuuri struggled to keep his voice from wavering, "Dream up my fate again? Or try and remember it?"  
     The Fate Bringer shook her head, eyes growing misty.  
     "I never get the same vision twice, a-and I receive so many that it’s hard to remember what- what everyone has."  
     Yuuri was furious. Absolutely _seething_. How could this woman simply _throw away_ the most important thing in a person’s life!? Why would she ever think that it was acceptable to dispose of fates that remain unclaimed? Wasn’t it her job to deliver them to their owners? Shouldn’t she have visited his family again and asked for the money?  
     Yuuri must have said something sharp because the Fate Bringer called out, "I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!" as he rushed out of her house. Behind him, he heard the front door open and the Fate Bringer’s sorrow filled voice drift into his ears. He ignored her. He _hated_ her.  
     Yuuri hardly remembered the walk home. Only the utter despair that filled him remained present in his mind as he fell onto his bed. He had never felt so horrible before in his life. First Vicchan had passed, a string of failed competitions followed, and now he was completely without a guide or purpose. He sobbed into his pillow.  
     _What does it matter now?_ Yuuri thought angrily. He was embarrassed. He felt ashamed. If he had gone to the Fate Bringer sooner, he would have known what to do next. If he had focused harder- no, practiced more- no, chosen different routines- if he had done _anything_ differently, he wouldn’t have wound up here. He was stuck with this mess though, and all he could do was feel sorry for himself. Maybe he deserved to lose his Fate after being too paranoid to claim it.

     A pale light filtered between the curtains in Yuuri’s room. He had woken up several times during the early hours of the morning, but failed to rise from bed. He was exhausted and felt sickly.  
     He finally convinced himself to get dressed and eat something around eleven. Over the years, he had gotten better at taking care of his needs during his low points. Today was going to be a challenge, but he planned as best as he could. He needed to at least get up and eat, even if it was only a snack and water. That was the minimum. If he felt better, getting a shower and dressed would be the next steps.  
     By four in the afternoon, Yuuri had only managed to eat one small meal and dress himself. While he was feeling motivated, he decided to take advantage of the momentum. He knew what would distract him from his feelings. After plugging in his phone to charge in his room, Yuuri headed to the place where it all began: Ice Castle Hasetsu.  
 Yuuri’s childhood friend, Yuko, was the current owner of the ice rink where Yuuri drew his first inspiration to skate. He had discovered the talented Victor when Yuko insisted that twelve year old Yuuri should watch him perform. The two of them would mimic Victor’s routines, competing with one another to see who could replicate his programs best. Yuko was even the one to say, “I hope you compete against Victor someday,” before Yuuri had left for America. Perhaps he could find that same spark of inspiration during his visit.  
     “Hi, Yuko…” Yuuri greeted shyly upon arrival, his one foot boring into the carpeted floor as he twiddled his fingers together impatiently. He watched Yuko hang up a pair of skates before she turned to him quizzically.  
     “Yuuri?” Yuko declared excitedly, running to the counter, “You’re back!?”  
     “Y-yeah. I just got back yesterday.”  
     “Oh, Yuuri, it’s been so long!” Yuko gushed, “I missed you a lot, but I bet you didn’t come here just to see me though, did you?” she said without hesitation, smiling widely.  
     “You know me too well,” Yuuri let out a soft laugh.  
     “You want some alone time, right?” she winked, as per usual when she made a promise to him. Yuuri relaxed his shoulders and a relieved smile crossed his face.  
     “Um, I actually want to show you something that I’ve been working when I was at college.”  
     “Oh? Well, I’ll be happy to watch. Tell me when you’re ready!” she requested, returning to organizing the skates on the racks. Yuuri shed off his winter gear and sat down on one of the rink’s lobby’s benches. He laced on his skating shoes in no time and was off doing warm up laps around the rink before Yuko joined him. He took off his glasses when he approached her, handing them over to her care.  
     “Watch me, please,” Yuuri worked up the courage to say in the empty rink.  
     “I will,” she said softly, a small grin forming on her face. It made Yuuri’s heart flutter in his chest.  
     Skating to the center of the rink, Yuuri drew in a breath. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins. When confidence hit its peak, he began:  
Twisting. Pushing off. Nice, and slowly, Yuuri allowed himself to become consumed by the hushed performance. The romantically charged song “Stay Close to Me” rushed through his head, but his motions spoke to the empty room in its place. His arms flailed about dramatically as he took up the ice, guiding himself into his first Lutz. Then a quad. Another one. He was on a roll as he delve into a spin. He coasted into twists and turns with ease. Every move was a part of his nature. He was meant for this performance.  
     He gestured to Yuko, a smile breaking free on his sweaty face as he pushed himself away from her. There was no time for distractions, the serenade must continue. One last quad. One last spin. One last show of desperation for love. Finally, with arms crossed over his chest and face towards heaven, Yuuri had completed the dance of lonely romantics. A breath gratefully escaped from his lips.  
     Then, Yuuri heard a squeak come from Yuko. He turned to her as sweat dripped down the side of his face.  
     “Yuko?”  
     “That was- wow, Yuuri!” Yuko burst out, slamming her hands hard against the rink’s barrier, “I’m speechless! I feel like I just saw Victor perform in front of me!” she let out an astonished laugh.  
     “Y-you think so!?” Yuuri blurted out.  
     “Absolutely! You were- ahh! So flawless, Yuuri!”  
     “T-thank you,” Yuuri said shyly, feeling the back of his head.  
     “I thought you’d feel too down after the Nationals to practice again…” Yuko said softly, almost hesitant to be honest about her hypothesis. Yuuri smiled slightly, looking down at the ice below him.  
     “I had been…” Yuuri admitted, “But, I felt like I couldn’t give up skating just yet. I wanted to try and find my love for it again. So, I did what we did best: copied Victor.”  
     Yuko chuckled to herself, making Yuuri blush.  
     “Well, you’ve certainly shown me that you’re still a worthy rival. Will you be returning to skating, Yuuri?”  
     Before Yuuri could respond, three identical looking children popped out from behind the rink’s barrier beside Yuko. They stared intently at Yuuri, cameras ready in hand. It was as if they could see right through him and into his past failures. He froze.  
     “Axel, Lutz, Loop- there you are!” Yuko admired, “Look how much they’ve grown up, Yuuri!”  
     “T-they sure have,” Yuuri said fearfully.  
     “Say ‘hi’ to Yuuri, girls.”  
     Instead, the next few minutes were full of badgering from the triplets. They took photos of Yuuri and commented rudely on his body, his love life, and his skating. The situation grew worse when their father, Nishigori, joined them and added onto the girls’ insults. Once the scene calmed down, Yuuri decided that it was time to head back home. He promised that he and Yuko could catch up in the following days.  
     _I don’t know where I’m going next_ , Yuuri contemplated, jogging away from the ice rink. As he made his way across a bridge, he stopped to take a breath. His lungs were craving relief. Looking out into the distance, Yuuri admired the beautiful pink and orange sunset cast upon the calm water.  
     While the ice rink visit had been a rewarding escape from his woes, reality was quickly seeping back into Yuuri’s mind. He attempted to keep his spirits up, but it was no use. He couldn’t shake Yuko’s question out of his mind. He was also still devastated from the day before. Anger gripped him fiercely. He couldn’t understand how a person could make such a grave mistake, especially when they were destined for the job. He felt betrayed.  
     When he arrived home, Yuuri headed straight for the showers. He retreated to his room to rest afterword, disconnecting his cell phone from its charger. Yuuri turned it on, hearing the phone immediately chime once the home screen had fully loaded.  
     “Huh? What’s going on?” Yuuri mumbled. He instantly felt a pit in his stomach. There had been nine missed phone calls and fifteen texts left by Nishigori within the last few hours. The first text was a link to a video. Yuuri clicked it, reading:  
     _Katsuki Yuri Skates Victor’s FS Program “Stay Close to Me”_  
     “WHAT!?” he screamed as the thumbnail for the video revealed his sweating mug in a twisted expression of immense effort. Within moments, Yuuri was on the phone with Nishigori.  
     “Yuuri! Thank God you finally called back. I’m so sorry,” Nishigori said over the phone frantically, “The girls uploaded that video and it’s being shared everywhere. I tried calling you and texting you, but you weren’t picking up.”  
     “I- I had left my phone behind,” Yuuri confessed dryly, “The video’s going viral?”  
     “Yes! I even saw one of those click-baity news sites write an article on it. I just wanted to warn you. You might get a lot of notes and-“  
     “Thanks, Nishigori.”  
     Yuuri hung up without another word, falling back onto his bed in a dizzy fit. His situation was going from bad, to worse. The video was trending. Perhaps Victor wouldn’t see it. No, wistful thinking. Even if he wasn’t tagged in it, or even if it didn’t show up in the search results, Victor would still get word of it from his fans or the media. The Russian skater could never escape what others thought of him. He was surely bound pass judgement onto Yuuri. If he dictated that Yuuri was a sham and an embarrassment, it would be all over for him.  
     Yuuri almost laughed. Of course this type of thing would happen. _Of_ _course_! The effort to brighten his day had just turned on him within hours just like every other effort to find stability and meaning had these past few years. Of course he couldn’t catch a break. Of course his rusty skating would be put up for the world to see and mock once more. Maybe he was _destined_ to have bad luck. Yuuri wouldn’t have any trouble believing in that. He wanted nothing more than to disappear. 

     The next thing he knew, Yuuri was being roused by his mother’s voice. He sat up, his head heavy as his mother continued to call to him. Perhaps his family wasn’t going to allow him to sleep in every day. Smart on their end.  
     “Yuuri, don’t hole up in your room like yesterday! Go outside and help us shovel snow!”  
  _What?_ Yuuri thought as he put on his glasses. He was still extremely groggy. Maybe he had misheard his mother.  
     He opened his shades, revealing a town covered in white. He gawked at the sight. How was it possible for it to snow this much in April? Wasn’t it pleasant just yesterday?  
     There was half a foot of snow when he finally bundled himself up in the warmest jacket and scarf he owned. With shovel in hand, he was off to clear a path for the guests. A bark abruptly broke his concentration when he opened the inn’s front door. He looked down in surprise at the large brown poodle before him.  
     “Vicchan?” Yuuri blurted the first thing to come to his lips. The dog immediately ambushed him, throwing him back into the warmth of the inn’s entrance.  
     “S-stop! Ahh- stop!” Yuuri begged, turning his head away from the ticklish lapping dog. As if on command, the poodle stopped licking his face. Yuuri managed to get a good look at the dog’s appearance.  
     _You look just like Vicchan…_ Yuuri concluded, _But… could it be… his dog instead?_ The dog kneaded Yuuri’s stomach, looking him right in the eyes.  
     “Isn’t he adorable, Yuuri?” his father spoke behind him. Yuuri flashed a glance up at the older man holding a basket full of towels, “I think his owner said that they had come all the way from Russia. He was a strange fellow too. He had grey hair at his age!”  
  _Poodle, grey hair, Russia-_  
     “Wait dad- where is his owner!?” Yuuri begged for an answer.  
     “The hot spring-”  
     Yuuri didn’t know he could move so fast, much less from a sitting position, but his entire body screamed at him to push forth in a maze of hallways filled with obstacles. His heart was pounding hard in his chest as he skidded into the men’s hot spring washroom. He rubbed his eyes as hot moisture clung to his face before boldly opening the sliding door to the hot spring itself. A wave of stream followed him as he stood up straight, his eyes falling right onto the face of none other than Victor Nikiforov.  
     “Vi-Victor…” Yuuri caught a breath, “Why are you here?” He stared at the man before him. Victor, seemingly unashamed by the clothing dynamic present, stood in full nudity, water cascading down his body. He turned in place and extended an arm out, declaring:  
     “Yuuri, starting today, I’m your coach. I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final,” his arm fell to his side as he winked. _A promise._ Yuuri’s brain stopped thinking entirely. All he could do as a cool brush of wind ruffled the sides of his jacket was yell at the top of his lungs, the echo strong in the brisk air.


End file.
